


Time and Tide

by spikesgirl58



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 08:39:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya discovers that Napoleon is making special plans for Valentine's Day, but they don't include him.  written for 2014 Valentine's Day Challenge</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time and Tide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Avery11](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avery11/gifts).



 

 

 The knocking on the door wasn’t loud, but it still managed to rouse Illya from his light doze.  It took him a moment to realize that the noise was coming from the hall and he hastily tugged his jacket over his thin white shirt and shoulder holster.

He cracked opened the door and saw the concierge standing there.  “May I help you?”

“I don’t…”   Then the man recognized him.  “You are Mr. Solo’s associate.”

 _I’m a damn sight more than that._ Illya thought, but he only nodded.  “Yes, that’s right.”

“Could you please give this to Mr. Solo and tell him that all the arrangements have been made?”  The concierge offered Illya a thick manila envelope and left before Illya could offer to tip him.

Illya watched the man disappear into a glass and metal elevator before he retreated back into his room.  Turning the envelope over in his head, Illya opened the connecting door between his room and Napoleon’s suite.  The second door was shut, but not locked.  It opened at Illya’s gentle pressure.

“Napoleon?”

The living room stood empty and Illya entered, his hand drifting closer to his weapon, just in case.  The bedroom was also empty and Illya shook his head.  The bad guys were defeated and there was no danger now, but he still worried.

He walked back to his room and realized he still held the envelope.  That’s when he realized it was unsealed.

Illya knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help it.  After all, he was a spy.  This was his job.  One might almost argue to review the contents was an obligation to his sense of duty.  

He shut and locked his inner door and carried the envelope to his rumbled bed.  Taking care to note the exact order of the documents as he took them out, Illya emptied the contents onto his bedspread.

_Mr. Solo –_

_As requested, all the arrangements have been made.  The items you chose from the menu will be prepared and delivered as previously discussed.  The table will be set up at the edge of the beach and will afford the most privacy.  Thank you for permitting us to help you with your Valentine’s Day needs._

_Sincerely,_

_Harris Hamilton_

_Head of Concierge_

 

Illya scanned down the list at the items – champagne, Oysters Rockefeller, Chateaubriand for Two and for dessert something called Sex on the Beach.    There was a photo of how the table would look, even the anticipated temperature and suggested attire.

Feeling slightly sick to his stomach, Illya reassembled everything and put it back into the envelope.

Closing the envelope, he went back to the door and opened it.  He placed the envelope on the table where he was sure Napoleon would see it and retreated back to his room.

Again he locked the door and sat on the bed.  

_Second place again, Kuryakin.  You’re a fool to think he cares._   Illya couldn’t really blame Napoleon, though.  Gail Holliway was just his type.  She was beautiful, with a sly sense of humor and social graces.  She was smart as well.  Illya had been impressed as just how intelligent she was.  Miss Holliway was miles ahead of their usual brand of Innocents and wealthy on top of that.  Napoleon would be a fool to let that sort of woman slip through his fingers.

Illya flopped back on the bed, doing his best to drive images from his mind.

                                                                                ****

“I don’t believe the luck,” Illya muttered as he unlocked the hotel room door.  “The last room in town and it’s ours.  The next time I see Yvonne in Travel, I am going to…”  He pushed the door open and stared.  There was nothing else he could do.  “… Have words with her.”

“As long as we don’t sneeze, we should be okay.”  Napoleon pushed past Illya and dropped his suitcase.  “Right now all I care about is that it has a bed and a shower.”

Illya followed a bit more slowly, his hand caressing the wood of the door.  “At least the door is solid.  No one will be kicking it in on the first attempt.”

“What about their second attempt?”

Illya made a shooting gesturing with his fingers and shut the door behind him.  “It smells off… like a wet dog or something.”

“Sorry, I think that’s me.  I hid out in a dog kennel last night.”

Illya approached him and sniffed.  “Yes, it’s you.”  

Making a face, Napoleon walked to the curtains and pulled one back.  The window was the size of a TV and barred.  “I’ve seen bigger windows in cells.”  Letting the curtain fall into place, he slipped off his jacket.  “Judging by past affairs, this one was successful in that at least we rescued our luggage if nothing else.” 

“We will find her, Napoleon.”  Illya, likewise, began to undress.  For the last two hours, Napoleon had been beating himself up for letting THRUSH slip their little package away.  Waverly had spoken to them harshly, gave them an address and told them to stay put until he sorted things out.

That suited Illya just fine.  He tested the bed.  It was stiff as a board.  Better that than too soft.

“I know.  I just can’t believe I fell for the oldest trick in the book.” Napoleon didn’t even bother to hang the jacket.  He simply tossed it onto one of the two bright orange vinyl chairs.  

“It’s okay, Napoleon.  I still love you.”  Illya kept the right amount of lightness in his voice, but even then he was afraid he’d betrayed his heart.  Thankfully Napoleon was too busy stripping to pay anything more than casual attention.  “You can have first crack at the shower and I will take your clothes for a walk.”

“You’re too kind.”

                                                                                ****

Napoleon was in bed by the time Illya returned.  He came back bearing bags of food and coffee.  At the first whiff, Napoleon was sitting up and watching his every movement.

“I thought you might be hungry since we are still on Geneva time.”  He set the bags down on a small scarred table and slipped off his jacket.

“You read my mind.” Napoleon was at the table before Illya could move.

“It’s not that hard,” Illya replied, keeping his tone light, but even then Napoleon’s face grew shadowed.

“Then tell me what I did wrong, partner.”

“For just a split second, just for a moment, you became human.”    Illya hesitated, then touched Napoleon’s face, his finger brushing lightly across the whisker stubble.  “There are worse things that could happen.”

“Are there?  Napoleon leaned into the touch, his eyes closed.

“Oh, yes.”  To this day, he didn’t know why he did it, but Illya leaned in and touched his lips to Napoleon’s.  He’d expected shock, anger, or shouting.  What he didn’t expect was Napoleon returning the kiss or of them falling upon the bed, limbs entwined.  He didn’t expect the frantic need of skin against skin as they tore off clothes and clutched at each other.  He didn’t expect what was to come again and again.

                                                                                ****

Illya woke the next morning, sticky, smelling of sweat and semen, a little sore and very contented.  He could hear the shower running and Napoleon was singing, softly, but singing just the same.  It was some silly love song and Illya grinned.  Napoleon only sang in the shower when he had been very lucky the night before.

Illya pushed the sheets aside and stood, wincing at the pull in his back.  He was intent upon joining Napoleon and possibly a scaled back reenactment of the night before when both communicators went off.

As was so often the case in their lives, Napoleon went one way and Illya the other.  Napoleon was sent to Europe and Illya to Canada.  They worked their way eventually to a small resort island in the Caribbean.  To this resort where their rooms were connected by a common door, one that hadn’t been opened in the night.  Illya lacked the courage to approach Napoleon a second time.  He’d rather hoped Napoleon would put all his romantic past to good use, but it wasn’t to be.  

                                                                                ****

There was a tap on the interconnecting door and Illya got up to unlock it.

“You, okay?”  Napoleon looked down at the lock and back up at Illya.

“Yes.  I didn’t want the maid to surprise me.”  He hoped his excuse didn’t sound as lame as it did to him.  It seemed to satisfy Napoleon.

“Did you leave this for me?”

“No,” Illya lied.  “What is it?”

“Nothing of any importance.”  Napoleon walked in and looked around, noting the rumpled bed.  “Napping?”

“Three nights of surveillance finally caught up with me.”

“It was good of Waverly to give us a few days of downtime.”

“We saved the world, the girl, and UNCLE a considerable amount of time, energy and money.  I’d like to think we’d earned it.”

“I was wondering if you had any plans for dinner tonight.”

“No, nothing that I’m aware of.  I thought you and Gail would be doing something.”

“Maybe later.”  Napoleon turned to leave.  “I’ll stop by about six.”

“All right, if you wish.”

There was warmth in Napoleon’s smile.  “I do.”

 

                                                                                ****

Illya checked his look in the mirror one last time.  He didn’t know why he felt anxious about dinner.  They spent the afternoon writing up their reports, doing some minor follow up, all things they did after every affair.  Never once did Napoleon make a comment or reference their night together.  That was Illya’s cue to drop it.  They often did things in the heat of the moment that were never fully explained or even acknowledged.

It made him a bit glum, but he chalked it up to too little sleep and not enough exercise.

There was a knock on his room door and he opened it after a quick check through the peep hole.

“Napoleon.”  The man was dressed casually in a pair of white chinos and a gulf shirt.  “I suddenly feel overdressed and that’s not something I usually say around you.

“No problem.  Lose the jacket and tie.”

“So where are we eating?”

“There’s a place on site that is pretty good or at least that’s what I’ve been led to believe.”

Napoleon gestured and Illya followed.  He always followed, except once when he’d dared to take the lead and show Napoleon how he felt.  Now Illya  knew it had been a mistake.

They started to walk towards the main dining, which sat at the edge of a small jetty looking over at the ocean.  The night was warm and the air was thick and soft.

“Not like home, huh?” Napoleon asked.

“Home was never like this.”  He hesitated as Napoleon suddenly veered course and walked toward the horizon pool.  At the edge was a table set up for two, torch lights and lanterns illuminated the immediate area.

Illya kept the smile to himself.  Napoleon was apparently checking out the look of the table for his liaison later.

“Here, have a seat.”  Napoleon held a chair for him and Illya sat with a grimace.  “Won’t the people who this is for object?”

“The people it’s for are here.”

“What?”  Now Illya was confused.  “But the paper said Valentine’s Day.”

“I knew you’d read those papers.  I could tell by your expression when I saw you.”  Napoleon smiled as he sat.  “That’s why I changed the date.”

“But Gail?  You said…”

“Ah, you forget who you are dealing with and I can read you like a book.”  A waiter appeared and opened the champagne.  “The reason I was gone so long this afternoon was that I took her to the airport.”  The champagne was poured and Napoleon sampled it.  He nodded and Illya’s glass was carefully filled.  Napoleon waited until his was topped off and watched as the waiter bowed and left.  “A toast, partner.  To us.”

Illya touched his glass to Napoleon’s.  “I am still confused.”

“About what?”

“About all of this.  This looks like something a man would surprise his girlfriend with.”

“It is, but there is nothing feminine about you, Illya.”

“Are you saying what I think you are saying?”

“Possibly, as long as it involves us and many repeats of that one night.  Well, possibly with the exception of that mattress.  My back hurt for a week.”

“As did mine.  I thought I pulled something.”  Illya sipped the wine.  “The beds here are very comfortable.”

“You should try the one in the suite.”

Illya grinned and look over as the appetizers arrived.  “I never thought you’d ask.  Now, let’s eat.”

 


End file.
